Thanks for the tip. I will certainly check

"Beer is proof god loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benjamin Franklin

Yep, never regretted, but there have been a few situations that I think I could have planned better for, but I would still carry.

Just discovered a new reason to regret carrying... in a hammock.

We've got 2 hammocks between 3 trees, my buddy got out of his, and we are both connected to one chain on the middle tree. Somehow him getting out had slipped my S-hook off and without warning I plummeted straight down 2-3 feet onto my back before I could brace myself. Luckily the glock and kydex broke the fall

It's been a few days and it still hurts to sit back against the holster



But to counter that is a "I'm glad I was carrying":

Did my tri-weekly wal-mart check for ammo tonight, and arrive to a pitch black parking lot. It was straight out of a zombie type movie. Not a single light source outside, but tons of people milling about in the silent darkness. Very creepy.

Thus the reason SOB (small of back), isn't recommended. If you had landed 'just right' (or would that be 'just wrong'?), you could've been paralized for life.

Glad things worked out for ya though.......

I keep it at about 4:30, so my spine wasn't involved, but my upper right cheek/lower back (with no padding) sure was

Solution : Gain about 20 lbs

I've had a few (search "tranny hooker"), although sometimes it's not even carrying, but just the carry implements that'll screw you. examples:

1) Right up until she graduated I'd still pick up my sister from school now and then if she needed the ride. Sometimes she'd repay the favor by not waiting at the curb ready to go, and make me head inside to get her. Yes, I was always sure to leave the gun in the car. No, I didn't always take the magazines off my hip or out of my pocket. On one such occasion my a-little-too-short t-shirt did a poor job covering a mag which of course sent someone into a tantrum. It didn't get to the point of police, but every other kind of shenanigans you could expect in such a situation followed in short order, which of course embarrassed the shit out of my sister.

2.) Earlier this year I made an attempt (now one of several) to visit Canada, since I've never been. They decided to search my car on the Canadian side of International Falls and found some holsters and other target shooting accessories in the trunk (minus any guns), which can usually be found there and to which I hadn't given a second thought. Handcuffs. Detention. Questions. More Questions.
CBSA: "Where are the guns Jake? Where were you taking them?"
JL: "What guns?"
CBSA: "Why did you lie about the gun stuff?"
JL: "The fuck is wrong with you? I'm on vacation. You're making this bigger than-"
CBSA: "You had a chance to declare it."
JL: "a mistake."
CBSA: "Then why didn't you?"
JL: "She said drugs or weapons. I don't."
CBSA: "And where are they?"
JL: "Drugs?"
CBSA: "We're going to find out the whole thing. If you come out with it it'll be better."
Other CBSA: "The dogs'll find it Jake. They're gonna find it. Just tell us"
JL: "You got dogs that can smell guns?"
CBSA: "Ok. Jake. We got you. So it's over now. Tell us about the guns."
JL: "There aren't any fucking guns!"
CBSA: "Sit DOWN."
[I'm in handcuffs, btw]
JL: "I'm sitting."
...And on and on and on. It was as if I'd been captured by Ewoks.

Actually no, because the story you told was just amusing. But picturing the same situation but with Ewoks instead of CBSA makes me giggle so hard I almost wet myself.

And the ending to that story??? You don't get to leave us hanging!

Moral of the Story : Don't go to Canada....just breathing the air makes you stupid.

I'm sure it's even funny to you by now so I'll just say thanks for brightening my day

Sorry. That is bad form, isn't it? Here's the good stuff.


After five hours they returned everything they'd seized, including my shoes which I assume were questioned in a separate room. They didn't stamp my passport, and firmly requested that I sign a statement such that I wanted to "voluntarily withdraw my application to enter Canada and depart from the country without delay". They told me that they were letting me go, and laid it on pretty thick that they were kind of doing me a real solid. For anyone not comfortable making assumptions, a good question to ask a cop friend would be: in his professional opinion, out of every ten slam dunk cases of weapons trafficking encountered by the US or Canadian border services, about how many do they decide to just cut loose and wish them the best, on average?

Then I took the Drive of Shame back across the bridge to the American side where I, an American, had no Canadian entrance stamp but rather my voluntary withdrawal that I used to explain how and why they wouldn't sign my permission slip. Of course, the Canadians had called across the way and informed CBP about me, so they were waiting, and I got the pleasure of going through the same dance with the Americans, although our guys managed to do it all in less than an hour, including their own deep-tissue analysis of my car. Between the CBSA and the CBP, well, I am amazed at how much stuff was actually in my console and glove box. There was an ocean of unfolded paper when I was finally on my way. Unfortunately, I have to come clean about the fact that, as soft and ridiculous as the CBSA were, I definitely wasn't too cool for school quite the way I wish I'd been in the face of all their bullshit. I kept it together, but there was a part me shaking in my boots, or lack thereof, and I'm sure it was obvious even to those clowns. On my side of the scoreboard, however, I did land at least one haymaker.

Between interviews they told me about how bad gun crime is in Canada, and how most of the guns come from the United States, and the unbelievable violence, especially in Winnipeg, and especially in Vancouver, and especially in all their cities, and especially how it's people just like me driving them across the border from the United States. When I suggested that it sounds like their tight gun control, the stuff of legend in Minnesota, has proven ineffective in lowering crime, they exasperatedly pointed out how it obviously, absolutely works, but for the US fucking it all up (kind of makes you think of an unmasked Scooby Doo villain, "...if weren't for you meddling kids!" doesn't it?).

They were quick to point out the dire crime stats in all their cities, over and over. And at one such juncture, captured and bound, like the Duke Leto tonguing a tooth, waiting for his moment, I let it out:
"God. If I knew your country was such a fucking shit hole, I wouldn't have come." It really struck bone. I saw it. And I saw that they knew I saw it. And it felt fucking great.



Yep. I know. I kept running into a lot of Serves You Right while I was thinking about the whole thing on the drive back.